


without a song or a dance, what are we?

by shutuprace



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (because he is Peter Parker's Parental Figure), Ballet Dancer Peter Parker, Flash Thompson Being A Jerk, Gen, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Nothing's Wrong Everything's Fine Everyone's Happy, Peter Parker Deserves Better, Precious Peter Parker, The timeline is a mess, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Tony is not having it, anyway, we been knew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 12:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19746121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutuprace/pseuds/shutuprace
Summary: the first time tony stark walks in on a certain dancing teenager, the kid is 14 years old.





	without a song or a dance, what are we?

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey!!! i'm so happy i got this done!
> 
> this is an idea that's been sitting in the back of my head for a Long time, and i'm really happy with how it came out. there are some irrational amounts of irondad fluff ahead, so, please, proceed with caution.
> 
> the title is from thank you for the music, by abba, because i’m very gay.
> 
> (okay MAYBE i just really needed to write something really sweet and not at all painful to heal my post-endgame, post-ffh wounds. what about it)

The first time Tony Stark walks in on a certain dancing teenager, the kid is 14 years old.

Peter, not even half aware of the unwanted company, is ballet-ing his way through and through the new room that had been assigned to him only two hours earlier, and his feet move fast and secure through the melody of Ballerina, by Alex Grant, as the piano piece plays out from his phone speakers. Whether the kid forgot that the facilities have an operating AI that could very easily play the tune for him in better quality, or he just didn’t ask because he wanted to remain unnoticed, it escapes Tony’s knowledge. The man is too hypnotized to care, anyway, with his hand still a fist on the open door like he’s about to knock and his whole body resting on the door frame, silently begging not to make any sounds that could startle the kid and, what’s even worse, interrupt his dancing.

He’s maybe wondering who Peter Parker really is, because there’s no way in the hell the universe has paired them together. No, it must’ve been some kind of mystical mistake or something of that nature. There’s absolutely no way it was a part of his written destiny to bump into this kid from Queens who is maybe the smartest of his generation, a superhero,  _ and _ a dancer. Peter Parker isn’t real, he can’t be, because there’s  _ no way _ there’s a person  _ that good _ running around in this dark, scary thing that is the universe. Tony doesn’t know why, but seeing him move as softly and securely like nothing else matters or even exists, he feels the strongest need ever to make sure this kid never lacks anything at all.

Unluckily and unlikely, Peter interrupts his thoughts abruptly as he falls not even twenty seconds later, in the middle of a turn that was just too hard to accomplish in the dimensions of the room. After almost knocking a box with his foot, the kid stops as the music continues and lets out a groan. When he goes to pick up the fallen objects, he stops half-way and his entire body tenses.

“What are you— Um,” Peter stutters. He still hasn’t turned to face him, but Tony knows he’s been caught. Or Peter’s been caught, more like. “Hi, Mr. Stark.”

“Hey, kiddo. I just came to say dinner’s ready, and your aunt said it’s a great idea, you spending the weekend here to get your room settled.”

Peter nods awkwardly, placing the before-fallen sock on the bed and sitting next to it. Tony, until now still resting by the door, takes a step forward out of instinct. Peter seems to shrink in his spot, eyes closed, clearly thinking he’s messed up.

I mean, he  _ was _ just dancing in front of Tony Stark, Earth’s Best Defender. If there’s a Guinness Record set for the most embarrassing moment ever, Peter’s sure he just broke it. He sits there, still like a statue, and waits for a sarcastic comment, a snap that’ll be the end of his so-long-lost dancing career and his emerging job as an Avenger.

He thinks he knows Tony Stark well enough to know what’s coming. He’s wrong. In reality, not even Tony knows how to kick off the conversation.

“I didn’t know you did ballet,” Tony asks, not sure of why his tone comes off in unnatural awe.

“That’s not ballet,” Peter corrects, hands fidgety, gaze locked on something that’s been lying on the floor and is of use for him to avoid the man in front of him and his curious eyes. “It’s lyrical.”

Silence. Again. A beat, two, and Peter realizes the music’s still playing. He stands up to grab his phone and press pause. Then, without further chitchat, he walks past Tony and into the bathroom connected to his room.

“I’ll be down in a sec, Mr. Stark,” he announces before closing the door. Not three seconds later, the shower starts running, and Tony can hear an exasperated groan from behind the door before leaving, in silence.

Peter is sitting in front of him and on Pepper’s left about five minutes later, brown curls still dripping some water on his forehead that he cleans away with the sleeve of his hoodie. His cheeks are red, hilariously red, and he doesn’t say a word for the entire meal. Instead, he smiles gently at Pepper when she fills his plate with food and eats away the entire content amazingly fast to then excuse himself and run off. Pepper gives Tony a glare, but he doesn’t dare to rat the kid off when he’s so clearly embarrassed, so he assigns it to puberty or hormones or something and helps his fiancée clean up the living room before leaving as well.

They don’t talk about it for months, and by the time the second incident happens, the Civil War events are already long forgotten  — pretty much, even though Peter can hear Tony’s panicked gasps in the middle of the night sometimes, when he’s got trouble falling asleep as well — , and the Homecoming Fiasco has left the two of them with a very important moral. Now, with Peter spending every Tuesday night and weekend on the Compound, the pair has grown comfortable of each other’s company.

Kind of.

On a certain Friday night, Tony gets a little bit tired of waiting for Peter, and maybe a little bit concerned (not that he would ever admit to it, though) that the little squirt hasn’t met him on the agreed time to start working on the suit updates and then watch a movie like every other Friday.

“FRI, where’s the kid?”

“Peter is in his room, Boss,” the AI responds immediately and oh so gently. “He has asked me to turn on the Do Not Disturb Protocol.”

Tony’s face splits in a frown. “The kid’s vitals, please?”

“Mr. Parker seems perfectly fine, only a little agitated.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Can you ask him to come down?”

“No can do, Boss. Karen is currently in charge of the settings on that particular room and Peter has asked specifically not to be disturbed.”

And Tony, being Tony, did exactly the opposite. On his way to the left to find the elevator and then up until he reaches the dormitories, Tony thinks of a perfect joke to drop on the kid for bailing on him. Not that he’s mad, of course. Tony finds it pretty hard to be upset at anything Peter does. It’s annoying, really. Pepper calls it the  _ Parker Effect _ , and it’s pretty much the same for everyone who gets to interact with him for more than a minute. It’s not that Tony has a secret soft spot for the youngling. Not at all. Never. Nah, ah.

He knocks once before opening the door, and he doesn’t get the warmest welcome.

The second time Tony Stark sees Peter Parker fall in the middle of a turn, the kid is 15 years old ( _and a half_ ). It’s his fault, this time, and his Spidey Senses seem to work a lot better than they did in the first place. Or, Peter is just a lot more paranoid that he’ll get caught dancing, thanks to the awful process that is being an insecure teenager.

Now, Peter’s fallen and he’s not looking up for a very specific motive. Tony bites his inner cheek because he knows he should feel bad for intruding, but there are some other words rushing to the tip of his tongue, wanting to be said before any apology.

“I thought I asked Karen to turn on the protocol,” Peter mumbles, eyes closed, embarrassment growing stronger with every syllable.

“You did. Turns out, I own Karen, so it didn’t really matter anyway.”

“What time is it?” He asks. Karen lights up a clock next to his bed, and Peter sighs. “Right. Sorry.”

He’s still not looking at him, though, and that makes Tony feel uneasy. “Got hurt?” Peter shakes his head. Of course not. He’s a superhuman  _ and _ a kid. He’s pretty much elastic. “That could’ve been a really cool, um, turn. If that’s the word.”

Peter stands up and replies to something Tony never even asked. “I’m sorry I was late, Mr. Stark, it won’t happen again, I promise. I just — I had this, um,  _ thing _ , and I guess I got caught up in the moment and I can’t get this stupid turn right because I keep bumping into things and — ”

Tony has to speed up to interrupt the kid’s flash-speeded discourse. He lifts both hands in the air as a sign of peace and says, “I’m not mad, Pete.”

Peter stops to breathe. His hair is messy, curls sweaty and entangled falling on his slightly red face. “You’re not?”

“Why would I be mad?”

Silence.

“Pete.”

“Because I was dancing? And I’m a guy? And other guys don’t really like it when I dance, so it’s okay if you get mad, I get it. I won’t dance here again if you don’t want me to, I can find somewhere else or, um — ”

“Peter.”

“Just, please, don’t tell the others? I don’t want to be, like, the joke of the Avengers or something, I promise I won’t do it again but just — ”

“Pete, I’m not mad at you, Jesus,” Tony’s chest aches a bit. “Why would you think I’d be mad? You’re a really great dancer, kid.”

Peter looks him in the eyes, confused, scanning for the truth. He doesn’t buy it.

“Did someone else get mad at you for dancing, Peter?” He asks, and the words come out before he can place them with a little bit more of tact. Peter takes a step back instinctively and that’s pretty much the only answer he needs, but the kid still talks back.

“No. I mean, yeah, but — but his jokes never really get that clever, so it’s fine. I just never dance at school anymore, which sucks a little, I guess, because we have a really cool auditorium, but it’s fine, I promise.”

A beat.

“That Flash Thompson kid. It’s him, right?” Tony sits on the bed and motions for Peter to sit next to him. This time, they already know the drill. They know each other pretty well, now, and Tony can guess the answer just from looking at the kid. “He’s full of shit. God, if I could have just one moment with the parents of that kid, I swear — ”

Peter shakes his head violently, looking at him dead-serious. “No, no. You can’t do that. I mean  — Flash’s a bad guy, sure, but he’s not a  _ bad guy _ . It annoys me, sometimes, because he just  _ won’t  _ give up, but it’s alright. He’s just jealous, I guess.”

“He’s been out for your head for as long as I’ve known you, kid.”

“Yeah, but can you blame him? I mean, at first I thought he was just pure evil, but… He’s got a lot going on, I guess. His parents are never there. You’ve picked me up from school more times than Mr. Thompson has ever put a foot on Midtown. It’s… sad. And I’d rather he takes it out on me before anyone else. It’s not like it makes a difference.”

Tony listens in silence, lips pursed into a straight line. He nods once and Peter stops to breathe. He’s still rubbing his hand against his knee, partly because he’s anxious and partly because it still hurts a little from the fall.

“Besides, it’s not that big of a deal. I quit dancing a long time ago. May and I…” He scratches the back of his neck and a sad laugh leaves his lips. “I mean. After Ben’s death, we were kind of broke, and May had to start taking extra shifts only to afford school and rent and… And dancing lessons were really expensive, so I quit. It’s alright, though.”

Silence.

“How do you know about Flash, anyway?”

Tony smirks for the tiniest fraction of time, then shrugs. “Happy told me you mentioned him in one of your voice-message-thingies.”

Peter’s face lights up a little bit and it’s so adorable, it’s even hilarious. Tony watches him in amusement as the kid asks, “Happy listens to my messages?”

The first time Peter Parker dances in front of Tony Stark, it’s his sixteenth birthday and he’s the biggest nervous wreck Tony has ever seen, which means a lot coming from him. The room has a large mirror and a barre and the whole shebangs, and Peter is starting to feel really tiny, standing there with his black pointe shoes and his shaky breath making his chest go up and down slightly faster than usual.

_ “Really, Mr. Stark, it’s not _ _ — _ _ ” Tony wasn’t listening to him, and Peter could feel his anger. “It’s not a big deal, Mr. Stark _ _ — _ _ Tony!” _

_ The man stopped and looked at him. “You’ve got blood on your feet, Pete.” _

_ Peter covered his face with his hands. “It’s not _ _ — _ _ It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt. I just _ _ — _ _ I just wanted to _ _ — _ _ ” _

_ “I’m going to that school and talking to that freaking family. Period.” _

_ “You don’t understand! It was a mistake, a misunderstanding  _ _ — _ _ Tony, look at me,  _ please _ ,” and so he did. Tony faced him, and Peter was a mess. He had that look on his face, the one he gets whenever someone he cares about is upset. He’d seen it before. It’s a pretty common face when it comes to the kid, because Peter doesn’t seem to get used to the fact that people are gonna care about him, and that that’s okay. “I just…” _

_ “You gotta talk to me, Pete,” Tony lowered his voice, calmer. “You gotta tell me these things. I’m not gonna  _ _ — _ _ I’m not gonna freak out, you know. I just wanna help. You don’t have to do this alone.” _

_ Peter gulped and sat on the bed, feeling too tired all at once. He rested his head on his hands and sighed. “I just wanted to  _ dance _. I’m so _ _ — _ _ Being Spider-Man is so awesome, really, I wouldn’t change it for the world. But sometimes… Sometimes I just wanna be Peter Parker again, you know?” _

_ And Tony knew. _

Peter clears his throat to catch his mentor’s attention. “We don’t, um, have to do this or anything, if you’ve got something better to do…”

Tony laughs as a primary response. “Pete, I cleared the whole day. I’m not missing this on your  _ birthday _ .”

And Peter can’t really argue, because he wants to do it, too. He just doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. It’s not like Mr. Stark hasn’t seen him do it before, right? Even though it happened only twice and he’s gotten much better at it since then  — or so he likes to believe. What if he’s wrong, though? What if he’s gotten worse? What if he’s gotten  _ so bad _ Tony’ll just laugh at it? At  _ him _ ? What if, after everything, Tony makes fun of him like everyone else?

A snap of fingers in front of his eyes brought him back to reality in a hit. “Pete. You okay, kiddo? I was kidding, you know? We don’t  _ have _ to do this. It’s alright. I just thought you’d want to, I don’t know, try the room out for the first time? It’s yours, after all.”

Peter frowned. “I’m sorry,  _ what’s _ mine?”

“The room.”

“Huh?”

Tony laughed and pointed all around them. “Who else did you think this belonged to?”

And Peter came back to reality a little later than he expected, after all, but when it hit him, he gaped at the man in front of him. “The — This… Um?” He had no words. A room? Just for him to  _ dance _ ? He looked at his surroundings. A huge room with the finest lighting, floor-to-ceiling mirrors, padded floors, a sound system and soundproof walls, a barre, a piano and… His very own dance studio. Inside the compound.

“You can come here whenever you want and practice. It’s yours. It’s got enough room if you wanna invite Natasha  — I’ve seen you two talking about maybe dancing together. We can count it as part of your weekly training, too, if you want. You just… I know you. You wouldn’t have asked for this. Jeez, you asked me for  _ sneakers _ as a birthday gift — which I still got you in, like, every color, so don’t even mention it — but ever since I first met you, you were so… embarrassed? And God, Pete, I know nothing about ballet. Or that lyrical thing you mentioned that one time. But I’ve seen you twice and I  _ know _ you’re talented, more talented than a lot of people. Stop pushing it back. This is part of you, I can see it. Part of Peter Parker. I want you to be Peter Parker, okay? Even more than I care about you being the web-slinging vigilante everyone knows and loves.”

The first time Peter Parker allowed himself to be Peter Parker in front of Tony Stark, the kid was sixteen years old and his face was wet with tears of joy. The kid’s a crier, you know? There’s not much you can do.

Tony finishes his speech and is immediately tackled by the teenager in a hug, and does that make his insides melt. It’s definitely not the first time experiencing the wildly-affectionate ways Peter has of walking into your heart. As if it’s even familiar to him, Tony cards a hand through the boy’s curls and bites back a smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers.

“No problem, kiddie,” he whispers back, then clears his throat and pats the kid’s shoulder. “You gonna show me that dance or what? I wanna see those _à la seconde_ turns!”

Peter laughs, breaking the hug and sniffling. “You don’t  _ do _ à la seconde turns in ballet, Mr. Stark, you do  _ fouette _ turns!” Tony only shrugs, which causes the kid to laugh even more. Something inside him moves, and Tony bites his lip. He loves his kid  _ so _ much.

Peter skips to the center of the room and takes a deep breath, now finally smiling. “FRI, can you play, um, the song?”

“Sure thing, Peter.”

The first time Tony Stark cries at the dance of a certain teenager, the kid is 16 years old.

Peter, fully aware of the very wanted company, is ballet-ing his way through and through the new room that had been assigned to him only two minutes earlier, and his feet move fast and secure through the melody of Ballerina, by Alex Grant, as the piano piece plays out from the sound system connected to the studio.

Well, Tony doesn’t  _ cry _ . He tears up. Allergies, probably. It’s not that he has a soft spot for the kid moving in front of him, or that he’d give up everything in a heartbeat to guarantee his safety and happiness. It’s not that he sees him and feels proud. It’s not that, as Peter dances, Tony knows he wasn’t wrong, he wasn’t bad. It’s almost as if the kid was meant to meet him, somewhere in his written destiny. Whichever the case, mystical mistake or not, Tony has never been so certain of something in his life.

He watches the whole dance and Peter doesn’t fall, this time, for the first time.

The kid is nailing the choreography, and he knows it. The feeling inside his chest is so magical, he feels as if he’s breathing for the first time in forever. He feels the strongest-ever connection with the best things in life, with his energy, his passion. He feels free and light and refreshed and alive. He feels a joy that he hasn’t felt in a while. He feels wanted in a different way.

He feels like Peter Parker, and he would never have guessed that that feeling would be so nice.

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: i'm working on new "uh, yeah, i sure hope it does" updates. thank you so much for all your patience and love <3
> 
> i have a twitter (@NEWSIESLIVE)! feel free to follow me for daily updates on my quest of neverending love for fictional characters with daddy issues. your kudos and comments are well received at any time of the day! i mean that. you comment on one of my stories once and i'll take you as my best friend. mi casa es su casa :)


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